Freedom
by Volleyball Chick92
Summary: What if the Malfoys had two children? One of them treated like a sin, who is considered an evil to the family. A girl, who is both physically and mentally abused on a regular basis, who only wishes for freedom. Full summary inside.


**Freedom**

Summary: What if the Malfoys had two children? One of them treated like a sin, who is considered an evil to the family. A girl, who is both physically and mentally abused on a regular basis, who only wishes for freedom. With tabs being kept on her by her worst enemies while she thinks she's free at Hogwarts, what kind of drastic measures would be taken? And will she ever find the love and freedom that she desires, and surviving?

As I lay within the shadows of the cobblestone dungeon floor, despite how scared I was, I reminded myself that it could have been worse. After all, I could have been dangling from the chains, being hung by my toes. My only sanctuary is my mind, no matter how the torture is. I should be used to this by now, for it's been going on for as long as I can remember, but the pain just digs deeper and deeper like a sharp rock stabbing into your soul. It's now become so unbearable, that I have even thought of suicide, but that would never happen because I'm not stupid. I know that killing myself is exactly what he would want, and anything that I would do will be for the opposite of what he wants.

I couldn't see anything but the eerie blackness, and I couldn't hear anything except for the howling wind from the outside. The only small window was barred up so much that no light whatsoever could seep through, so I'm now surrounded by darkness, both inside and out. I remember once reading a book during one of the few times that I could do something besides curling up in a solemn corner, pretending that I don't exist. I looked in a book that Dobby, the house elf at the manor, said was called a dictionary. The book was filled with more words than I even knew was in the English language, along with their definitions and parts of speech. Dobby is very smart and powerful, and he's pretty much all I have, but he's unfortunately exactly like me: bound to this fate, with no other choice. We have a lot in common, and whenever a certain man is gone, and I'm able to come out of either the dungeon or my bedroom, Dobby and I would talk and sometimes I'd even help him with the work he's forced to do. There are many things that we would talk about, but one thing especially, a word in that dictionary book.

Freedom … it's the thing that house elves and I both long for … but will never receive. As far as I'm concerned, nobody who would ever live in this manor is free, no matter what they're relationship with Lucius Malfoy is. It's not a surprise how everyone will only think of themselves around here. Of course, I'm only aware of what happens to me in the form of witnessing, but I have heard about my mother and my brother from what Dobby tells me. He told me about how my father hates my mother and how it was Lucius who caused her to always look like she had a rancid smell underneath her nose. Usually, the reminder of my mother's face constantly looking like that would make me chuckle, but not by the way it was created. The same man who I have to blame for my torture is the same one to blame for my mother's problems as well. Dobby never mentioned what happens to my brother, and I can't honestly say that I'm too concerned about the little bastard. As I've told Dobby, I don't care if he is my brother, I don't care if he is my twin. I'm sick of Draco and his bragging about being the future Malfoy heir. I don't know how much more of it I can take before I snap and punch him in the face. There's no point in doing that, because he'll just go running to Lucius and I'll get worse than what I usually get. If I had to guess, I'd say that I'd receive an attack of beatings with that damn serpent-head cane along with being strung up by my toes in the dungeon. He'd probably say that I wouldn't be allowed any food for at least three days, but whenever that did happen, Dobby always found a way to sneak me at least a morsel.

I heard creaks coming from the ceiling and became alerted. The only time that anybody ever came down that corridor was when they were to go to the dungeon. I stood up and made my way deep into the dungeon, to the stone wall, as a shiver crawled down my spine. I knew it couldn't be Dobby coming to see me, for if it was, Dobby wouldn't have walked over here, instead he would have teleported into the room. The footsteps grew closer, and my heart was beating so loudly that I could hear it like a quickly-paced drumbeat. I could picture the scene in my mind, my father throwing the dungeon's door open and angrily making his way down the ghostly stairs with the cane in his hand, and a sign of abhorring in his cold, grey eyes. I could almost feel the slapping pain as Lucius would slam me on the hard ground before conspicuously whipping me with that cane that I want to throw into a body of flames, praying that that man will follow it. I almost lost my alertness when the image of my father burning to death stuck in my mind … would his death or my death be the only way for me to escape from this?

The dungeon's door eerily creaked open, letting a small amount of light – that was blinding to me – into the usually pitch-black room. I decided to keep my guard, not to shiver, not to shake. No, I'll never let myself be scared anymore. But when a shadowed silhouette appeared in the doorway of a lighter room, what I had just thought was obviously easier said or thought than done. I grabbed hold of metal chains on the wall near where I was standing, as if imagining to grip onto ropes of freedom … and all I would have to do is pull myself up …

When I heard the footsteps practically race down the stairs, I snapped my mind back to reality. I heard a light of a match and a small candlelight lit up a small circle in the room that wasn't even as big as my head. When the candle was held up to its holder's face, and I saw the pale white skin and grey eyes, I almost silently gasped, before realizing that it was only Draco. When I looked at my twin brother in the dungeon, the dungeon that I'm thrown in so often that it should be considered as my dungeon, I sneered at him and a surge of annoyance filled my head. Draco wasn't sneering at me or even looking angrily at me, for once he looked the least bit … concerned … and that got me extremely suspicious. What was he doing – spying on me for Lucius? As if I wouldn't notice a light after being stranded in this room for so long that I didn't even remember how many hours it's been.

"What do you want?" I asked emotionlessly. I starred at him, locking my vision on his every move, knowing how to react if he left and got Lucius in here to beat me.

Draco stood there, without even an utter escaping his lips. They didn't move, they just were there, tightly shut with the light from the candle flickering on them. Although there was a lot of confusion going on, I didn't say anything, just stared back at him, assuming the worst. It was silent, so silent that I could hear Draco breathe, and I swore that there were crickets chirping outside. I hoisted myself up the chains that I was standing near, holding onto them like they were ropes, not stopping until I was about five feet or so off the ground.

It was going on too long for me right now. As far as I was concerned, he either says to me what he came down here to say or he gets out of my dungeon. I don't like seeing anyone who would side with Lucius. "What do you want?" I asked again, now more demanding, but still cautious and with little emotion in my voice.

Draco opened his mouth and said, as if trying to hold back shock and that concernment that he showed, "What did you do?"

I sneered at him. The little weasel, all he does is listen to what Lucius says, he doesn't have a mind of his own, nor will he ever. He's too poisoned by our father to know the truth, that I'm not thrown down here and probably tortured because I did something, but because it was what Lucius wanted. My eyes narrowed and I saw him start to ever slowly back away as if I was a devil or something evil like that. Not surprised that Draco would act this way, since I was used to the behavior throughout the entire Malfoy family, I knew that according to everything in that book Dobby told me about … that I was a sin to the family.

"I did nothing," I almost spat out. I didn't care if the brat did go running to Lucius and he would come down here with that serpent-head cane … all I am is sick of the crap that I'm forced to live a part of. I own the qualities that my family would think of as a curse, and others would think of as a delicacy, and I show it wholeheartedly.

Draco backed out pretty quickly and ran up the dungeon stairs. I let out a relieved sigh, knowing that at least I was alone down here again. The only person who I would want to see me is Dobby, and anyone else who would help me. Draco, Lucius and Narcissa are not any of them. However, I wish that I didn't have a tendency to be so … I don't know … mean towards those who I feel suspicious towards. It's probably a part of human nature. That you would be mean to people you don't trust or feel comfortable with. I can't stand Draco, sure, but seeing what could be interpreted as fear on someone's face makes my stomach twirl unless they're Lucius or anyone who wholeheartedly supports the Dark Lord Voldemort. I've felt so much pain, suffering and especially fear since I must have been only a toddler, and even if it is Draco, it makes me feel like the abuser … abusing him mentally in a similar – but less serious – way that Lucius had abused me all these years. I began to feel a sinking feeling in my gut as I swung on the chains that I were holding onto as a feeling of vomiting sat at the bottom of my throat.

Eventually when my stomach settled I let myself drop down from the chains, especially since my arms were very tired and felt like jelly. I fell right on my ass from the five foot drop and I just sat there, tracing patterns in the dust on the floor. Imagining what it was like on the grounds, outside of the prison, I drew a crescent moon and tiny stars that would light up a grassy field with a small pond. Sighing, I wondered if there was a place really like that, where you could get your wings, being as free as a bird with the ability to fly anywhere you want at anytime you want. The scenery that I was drawing made me think of serenity and peacefulness with no Dark Lord, no Lucius Malfoy. You could be left alone and live freely with the ability to speak your mind if you feel the need to do so without getting beaten. I soon fell asleep there, sitting up against the uncomfortable stone wall, sending myself into the dream that I wish with all my heart would become a reality …

The next morning I thought I saw some form of light. When I opened my eyes I found the dungeon door open, allowing some light from the manor's corridors to come through. I was surprised, for nobody ever opened that door while I was down there; it was like somebody was allowing me an escape. But there would be no second thought that the door opening would be a trap set by Lucius so he could have a reason to beat me. I realized that I wasn't hit yesterday or even the day before, I was just stranded down here with Dobby only bringing me scraps of morsels that he was able to sneak down. It was strange but alluring because I kept wanting to move my legs up those steps and find a way to dash out of the house and run off, but I knew that it must be a trap. Lucius was probably keeping guard outside of the door, waiting and then once I would step outside he would start hitting me without stopping. So I kept control over myself and ignored that the door was opened, instead I moved to another, darker side of the dungeon and started to write in the dust as if I was writing in a diary.

I love writing things down, whether it's a story, a poem or even my own thoughts; however, I can't spell big words at all. One time when Lucius, Narcissa and Draco went to Spain for a few weeks leaving me with a barrier around the house so I couldn't get out and run away, Dobby taught me how to read and write. I was a fast learner and ever since then whenever there was the chance, I would love to write or try to read some easy book in the library. The only catch was that I had to put everything back in the exact right place so that I wouldn't be found out when they got back, but it was always worth the trouble. I wished that I could do that again soon.

_Locked in a cage_

_Without a single page_

_To write down my pleas to be free_

_Only so that I would someday be_

_No longer a wounded soul_

_Never to be beaten with a pole_

_To escape from my sorrow and pain_

_To never again see that cane_

_I need to find me_

_Beyond the sea_

_Of suffering and fear_

_But no one can hear_

_My pleading and cries_

_When I feel like I will die_

_I'm the animal they never feed_

_I'm the one who no one will need_

_My cage is now so small_

_And I am growing so tall_

_I can no longer crawl_

_All I can do is bawl_

_But nothing works_

_Everything hurts_

_As my bruises ache late at night_

_Never seeing anything bright_

_I never truly saw the sun_

_I never truly had any fun_

_I've had nothing but sorrow_

_And I can't fix the past_

_There's only tomorrow_

_And my heart will never last_

_While my box is made of steel_

_While there's nothing to peel_

_Away from the chains_

_Away from the canes_

_But nobody cares_

_My heart only tears_

_While I shed my very last tears_

_As I experience my very last fears_

Sad, but true, I suppose, I thought as I reread my poem over and over again. I wished so much that I had a piece of paper to write this down on, never in my life had I ever came up with something so … flowing. That was the best thing, poem, story or thoughts, that I had ever written. If only … it wasn't so true.


End file.
